


crave you

by minhoscallousedhands



Series: minewt; rated r [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BOTTOM MINHO, M/M, Smut, Top Newt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhoscallousedhands/pseuds/minhoscallousedhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just when you thought no one plays seven minutes in heaven anymore, minho is stuck with newt in it to his advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crave you

 

 

 _why can’t you want me like the other boys do?_  
they stare at me while i stare at you  
why can’t i keep you safe as my own?  
one moment i have you the next you were gone

 

 

Minho and Newt are shoved into the small space that is Teresa’s closet, then got locked in. “Seven minutes!” they hear Gally’s voice from behind the door, followed by Thomas and Teresa’s identical giggles.

“Fuck. Are we supposed to do anything? I thought no one ever plays seven minutes in heaven anymore.” Newt complains.

“No, dummy. We can just sit and not do anything.” Minho rolls his eyes. There’s practically no space for them to sit. It fits just right for the both of them to stand up next to each other, or face-to-face, that is if they want to.

“We’ve been best friends for years, Minho, aren’t you tired of hitting on me?”

“Are you sure you’re not attracted to me? Hm?” Minho inches his face closer to Newt’s and the tight space works in his favor; there isn’t much room for Newt to back away. “Scared of a little bromance?”

“You kissing me isn’t bromance. Wanker.” Newt tries his best to avoid Minho’s attempts to reach his lips. He’s taller, yeah, but he can only dodge as far as the space allows him to. “Please stop.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much options.” Minho tiptoes as much as his feet can, pressing a near-miss kiss on Newt’s bottom lip. “C’mnnn.” he mumbles against the skin, refusing to pull away.

“Mmmhrrghhmrrghh.” Newt grumbles, and lowers himself. His lips are properly contacting with Minho’s now, and it sparks something in him. _Fuck_. Newt wants more of it. His breath gets heavy and he feels Minho smirking against his lips.

“What the hell.” he pulls away briefly, then smashes his lips against Minho’s. He parts them slightly with his tongue, tilts his head, deepens the kiss with every waking second. _This is amazing, what the fuck?_

“Why the long wait, N?”

“Shut up and fucking kiss me.”

Minho does exactly that. Fuck, he doesn’t need words. He’s tired of words. He’s tired of half joking and half expecting Newt would take his bait and try something, anything, with him. This is all he’s ever wanted; his lips capturing Newt’s in a ragged dance of the slick pair and tongue. The taller boy tastes as good as he thought he would be, if not better, like a mix of mint and the cranberry chaser of the vodka they drank earlier. His skin becomes way too tempting for Minho not to touch. His fingertips traces the blond’s jawline, picking up the heat radiating from the hot skin.

“Mm, you taste good. So good.” Minho breathes out.

Newt tilts his head to the right. “Then taste more of me.” he says, pulling the raven hair he’s been tugging on towards his neck. Moans start escaping his thin lips as Minho trails kisses on his jawline, open mouthed with a hint of his tongue, occasionally nibbling on the thin skin. He moves down on his neck, then his collarbone, sinking his teeth on the latter, earning a short gasp from Newt. God, he loves every inch of Newt, especially the scent on his skin that lingers on his nose after he kissed the hell out of his sweet spots.

“Seven min.. You guys need more time?”

Gally opens the closet door to Minho almost unbuttoning Newt’s shirt off, and Newt’s fiddling with Minho’s pants.

Newt flashes a smirk. “Maybe a little more. Close the door, will ya?”

“Wait, hold up!” Teresa rushes to the door, face soaked in horror. “You guys are NOT fucking in my closet!”

“Too late!” Newt slams the door shut.

“Whoa, whoa, N. We’re gonna do this in Teresa’s closet?” Minho whispers as Newt continues unzipping his pants.

“What, you don’t want to?” the blond mocks, lips tugged to one side. “I’ll put your pants back on if you change your mind.”

“No, what the fuck? I’ll fuck you right here, right now.”

Newt’s eyes flicker down Minho’s legs and then up to his pitch-black eyes, “Who said anything about _you_ fucking _me_?” he scowls. “If you want this, we better do it the right way. _I_ get to fuck _you_.”

And Minho had never been more turned on.

“Take me, then. Go on.”

Just like that, Newt’s no longer the challenge. Years of Minho’s superfluous lousy pickup lines and unsettled sexual tension had amounted to this exchange of body heat amongst other things, in a teeny tiny space only fit for them two, and they honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. Soon their skins collide, their breathing becomes panting, their hands already touching where they need it the most.

“Damn it, N, didn’t know you want me this much.” Minho calls out into Newt’s neck as the taller boy bites down a hickey on his collarbone.

“Shut up.” he grunts, leaving the hot skin a bright red bruise.

“I like bossy Newt.”

The taller boy tears himself away. “Stop talking and bend over.”

“Okay, maybe you need to be more realistic now.” Minho eyeballs the small space. “I’m all for it but fucking _where_?” he’ll have to get rid of Teresa’s clothes to do it comfortably.

“Fine, just. Face the damn door.” 

Just before he obeys, Minho reaches down to the back pocket of his pants. “I came prepared.” he wiggles the square wrapper in front of the older boy’s face. Newt takes it, break it open and roll the latex on his length. “That looks like it’s gonna literally tear me apart, N.” Minho can’t help the comment; it earned him a smack on the ass as Newt turns him around to finally face the door. He places a firm hand over his friend’s mouth while the other binds his wrists together.

“If you could just shut up? That’ll be great.”

Newt places a trail of wet kisses down Minho’s neck, humming pleasantly as he tastes his bare skin. He didn’t know he wanted this. At least not this much. His hand shifts from pining wrists to tracing the v of Minho’s hips, following the trail down to the hardened length, leaving his own twitching with need. He presses himself closer and encircles his hand tighter so everything just fit snugly where they need to be. Up and down his hand goes; nothing he’s not used to, really, just this time feels strange, but also good. Really, really good.

“Mmhmm.” Minho moans, muffled right into Newt’s hand, breaths hot and heavy. There’s a certain satisfaction gained from shutting up an insanely chatty and arrogant person by just moving a hand; Newt is currently basking in the glory of it, in how easy it actually is. He craves more. And he _can_ do more. So he lifts Minho’s thigh, opening him up, not wanting to waste any more time.

Newt drives his teeth into Minho’s shoulder as he lets himself in him. The younger boy wants to let out an ouch, but Newt is hitting him at all the right angles, and before he knows it their bodies rock in sync, making use of the tight space. Hell, eventually, they don’t care anymore; as the pace picks up they’re practically hitting the door and the drawers as they move back and forth. Their friends can probably hear them, but being quiet is no longer their priority. Minho won’t stop grunting and moaning into Newt’s hand, and it really feels like he should let him.

“You wanna be loud, Minho? Hm?”

Minho nods, and Newt’s hand’s no longer getting in the way. The sounds they’re making gets louder and more obscene as time passes, _pretty sure Gally’s gone to throw up somewhere on the other side of the door._  Newt mentally shrugs off thought, his focus shifts back to the boy he’s inside of.

“Go faster. Fuck. I need to come, I need-” Minho’s sentence ends with a gasp as Newt rams into him, harder this time, driving them both close.

“So good, fuck.” Newt heaves, nails clawing every inch of skin he can find. He’s so close, it’s so painful and blinding but insanely euphoric. He wants release. He needs release. So he thrusts deeper, harder, paying no mind to Minho’s high–he’s lucky that’s all that Minho needs, too. At the end, they fall apart in each other’s arms from reaching impossible heights. The small room now has a mess of their leak, something they promise to attend to later, but all that matters now is just to wait for the haze to fade.

“God.” Newt sighs. “That was. Intense.”

Minho’s still blinking the white cloud out of his vision. “Good intense?”

“Good intense.”

Lightheaded, they slip back in to their clothes before going back to a possibly furious Teresa and disgusted Thomas and Gally.

“On my bed next time?” Minho had to make sure.

Newt smiles, his fingers tapping lightly on his friend’s shoulder.

“On your bed next time.”


End file.
